


Landing Pad

by karenmcfadyyon



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-28
Updated: 2010-04-28
Packaged: 2017-10-09 05:27:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karenmcfadyyon/pseuds/karenmcfadyyon





	Landing Pad

Rodney stumbled through the gate, yanking Sheppard's vest more out of terror and frustration than need. He fully expected to be decked the moment they were through, but instead, he tripped and fell backward and Sheppard tumbled through after him and flattened him accidentally.

They stared at each other for a moment, eye to eye, nose to nose, and while Rodney should have been noticing the lack of air coming into his lungs, all he really noticed was the tang of sweat, the faint scent of whatever soap or shampoo Sheppard used, and the lean solidity of the body between, good lord, his legs, and his dick took notice, too.

He finally got a real breath in and was heading toward mortification when he noticed that Sheppard's dick appeared to be noticing something, too. Really noticing something.

That blew mortification away and left complete astonishment.

And then Sheppard rolled off and up to his feet, face scarlet. "Thanks."

"Major?" Weir's voice, and Rodney got to his feet, still too thunderstruck to think.

"Just a little trouble, not Wraith." Sheppard called up and then turned a brief, wide-eyed look at Rodney before heading up the stairs. "Just ran into a little difficulty with some native archers who didn't want to listen to Teyla."

Rodney gave himself a mental shake and followed, right behind Teyla, who was saying something like I told you so, but far more politely.

It was adrenaline, that was all. They had both narrowly avoided being skewered by really skilled archers, and Rodney had yanked Sheppard back and they were both really feeling a lot of adrenaline.

Arousal was the next step up from adrenaline, and of course they'd both noticed, Sheppard was pretty observant anyway by nature of training, and as for Rodney, well, it was hard not to notice someone's halfway there erection when it was pressed snugly up against your own.

The debriefing was short and to the point: they'd gone, they hadn't made friends, they'd gotten out without anyone getting hurt, on the planet or on the team.

Once that was done, they all scattered, some of them more quickly than others. Rodney, for his part, fled to his lab and stayed there to bury himself in work that neatly deflected any tendency to think about either his body's reactions to Sheppard's body or Sheppard's body's reaction to his.

There was absolutely nothing to be gained by a) re-opening a door on his sexuality that he'd decisively closed when he'd gone to work for the US government, he told himself or b) taking any kind of chance with a member of the military, and/or c) risking getting his heart ripped out by Major John Sheppard, boyish and charming and about as genuine as a three dollar bill. Which wasn't really a fair way to describe Sheppard, but he wasn't going to think about, just listed all the very good reasons not to think about it before he buried himself in work.

Zelenka, who was a decent fellow even when Rodney was being a bastard, kindly picked up an MRE for Rodney when he went to dinner, so he didn't even have to leave his lab for that. In fact, he didn't leave his lab until quite late, when he was reasonably sure that he wouldn't run into Sheppard for any reason.

Even then, Rodney didn't completely relax until the door to his quarters closed behind him.

He had just stripped down boxers and a t-shirt when his door opened and John Sheppard burst in without so much as a by your leave.

"Rodney," Sheppard said, "Have you been avoiding me?"

"Have you ever heard of knocking?" Rodney snapped.

"I thought so." Sheppard advanced on him. "You are avoiding me."

Rodney stood his ground, firmly convinced that a good offense made the best defense. "Have you lost your mind?" he demanded. "Why would I be avoiding you?"

"Because," Sheppard said and then stalled, looking at him uncertainly.

Rodney kept his expression as blank as he could make it.

And Sheppard lunged forward, pushed him against the wall and kissed him hard.

All these things went through Rodney's head in the next several seconds: first, that he was going to shove Sheppard away and knock him on his ass; second, that Sheppard's body felt just as lean and solid up against him as it did on top of him; third, that Sheppard's tongue was really, really agile and downright gifted and that Sheppard's dick was really noticing Rodney's again.

The last two were the items that totally derailed the first; instead of knocking Sheppard on his ass, he put his hands there instead and that got a seriously enthusiastic response said enthusiasm manifesting by Sheppard sliding both hands into his shorts and pulling them down as he dropped to his knees.

To his knees.

Rodney stared down at that improbable hair and Sheppard looked up at him, licked his lips and dear God, took hold of Rodney's decidedly rampant cock and closed his mouth over it.

It felt like his heart stuttered inside his chest. "This is a very bad idea," he said faintly and put his hand in John's hair. Dear God, that wicked, wicked tongue was doing things that he hadn't had done in, well, far too long and his hips moved involuntarily as Sheppard sucked him in. This was a very, very, very bad idea. There were so many reasons it was a bad idea, too many to count really to count, although he was pretty sure Sheppard could calculate without counting, and oh, yes, it was getting hard to breathe, he'd always wondered if it was possible to have a heart attack because of amazing sex, but he'd never really wanted to know, not really, and then he put his other hand in Sheppard's hair, and that was ridiculous, he was fucking the man's mouth, the least he could do is think of him as John.

And Sheppard--John, dammit, John, was obviously sucking his brain out through his cock because he couldn't think of a single one of those very good reasons that this was a really bad idea, and John was making these very enthusiastic slurping sounds and little noises in his throat, and he really was going to kill Rodney in just another few minutes, but instead of having a heart attack and dying, he said, weakly, "Uh, John, I'm, you, ah, God."

Which wasn't, evidently, discouraging enough because all the tension and heat at the base of his spine just exploded out his cock and John swallowed it all down and sucked more gently until Rodney couldn't stand it any more, he was just too sensitive, and he whimpered. John let his lips part and let Rodney slip out, and Rodney just sagged and slid down the wall eye to eye with John, who looked at him, puffy-lipped and bright-eyed and hopeful in a way that had nothing to do with his usual charming make nice with the natives or cranky expedition personnel and everything to do with Rodney?

That seemed unlikely, but John was kneeling between Rodney's legs and kissing him hungrily, and he could taste himself, which was simultaneously the hottest thing and kind of nasty and then it seemed only fair to kiss John back after the most sensational and enthusiastic blow job he'd had in years. Rodney might lack social skills, or more precisely any desire to practice social skills, but he hoped he wasn't ungrateful, and besides, John kissed very well, lots of nibbling and licking and more licking and some sucking, and that only reminded him of just how well John did sucking, so gratitude did require some return.

John had gotten as far as unfastening and unzipping his own pants, and then apparently lost himself in that amazing enthusiasm, so Rodney reached in and closed his fingers around swollen, hot, slick flesh and stroked upward to good effect. John shivered and pressed him against the wall again, pushed up into his grip and Rodney put his other arm around John's waist to keep his head from being thumped against a hard surface, splayed his fingers across John's lower back to brace them both.

The smooth skin there was hot and sweaty and he pulled John closer, felt a residual throb of arousal himself at the sounds John was making in his throat, bit John's lower lip lightly and stroked with his own kind of enthusiasm.

John was close, he could feel the minute tremors in John's body, and John drew back from kissing him, rested his forehead against Rodney's and looked down, made a faint whining sound in his throat and came, spurting and spilling over Rodney's fingers and his own pants and Rodney's t-shirt.

And then he could hear past the thud of his own pulse and all there was to be heard was John's panting breaths and his own. Some of the reasons this was a bad idea began to percolate back into his brain now that there was enough blood to supply it: John was military; they were on the same team; Rodney was, well, himself.

"Oh, jeez, Rodney," John said faintly and put one arm around his neck. "Do you know how long I've been wanting to do that?"

That derailed his brain again. "What?"

"Months," John said and leaned against him.

"Months?" Rodney repeated vaguely.

"Months," John sighed. "Of course, it started out with me wondering what you'd   
do if I shut you up by putting my tongue in your mouth."

"Months," Rodney tried to think past that idea and couldn't. "Months?"

"For a genius, you're a little slow on the uptake, aren't you," John said and kissed him again, quite luxuriously.

So luxuriously, in fact, that Rodney forgot what he was thinking about. "So this wasn't just about adrenaline," Rodney finally said, when he could breathe again and his mouth was free.

"Jesus, how easy do you think I am?" John kissed him again.

It was hard to complain even though he'd finally managed to process the "if I shut you up" comment. It was just that John really knew how to kiss well. That and John's ass fit perfectly into Rodney's two hands once his pants were out of the way.

It wasn't exactly the most rounded or fullest ass, but it felt very nice. Especially when he squeezed it and John made that lovely, sexy sound in his throat again.

"This is really a bad idea," Rodney said, when John's mouth moved to his throat, but there was no real strength to it. This could have been because he was trailing his fingertips over the cleft of John's ass, or just because John had found the spot on his throat that was extraordinarily sensitive, or maybe because he still liked the way John smelled.

"No, it's not," John said and sucked on his throat. "This is a really good idea."

Rodney couldn't think past that suction. "It is?"

"It is," John muttered and moved up to his earlobe. "I mean, maybe we can cut down on the bickering."

"I like the bickering," Rodney said weakly.

"I like the bickering, too," John breathed, all warm and unnerving on the curve of his ear. "But sometimes, it gets a little much, and now that we're doing this, it won't."

"It won't?" Rodney sounded desperate even to himself, but he was massaging John's ass very thoroughly and not only was his dick beginning to twitch, it was apparent that John's was likeminded.

"No, it won't. It'll be fun," John licked his ear and pulled at the hem of his t-shirt. "Take this off."

"It can wait," Rodney said and squeezed John's ass. "Months?"

John came back to his mouth. "Months," he agreed and dove back in for more kissing.

Lots more kissing. And squirming.

Lots of squirming.

In a good way.

In a getting out of the clothes without losing a grip on each other sort of way.

And while that was good, Rodney really owed it to himself, well, and to John to address some of the other issues. If only he could remember them.

Since he couldn't, Rodney focused on warm skin and John's entirely seductive mouth, and that pretty cock, and the way John moaned when Rodney explored the sensitivity of his nipples.

John's ass fit pretty well in his bed, too, Rodney discovered, and they were very nearly the same height, so they fit up against each other very nicely, and every time he thought of an objection, John kissed him before he could voice it. And then they were face to face, lined up perfectly and John rocked against him, gasping a little. "Jesus, that's good, Rodney, so fucking good," and he was apparently as incapable of resisting anything about a semi-naked or fully naked John Sheppard because all he did was reach down and wrap his hand over John's fingers and join John's rhythm.

John was right, it was so fucking good, and John tilted his head back to give Rodney access to his throat and John, apparently, had a sensitive spot on his throat, too, right behind his earlobes and it tasted and smelled just as good as the rest of John. John hooked a leg over his hip and rocked faster, pushing into their twined fingers and he did, and oh, God, John was definitely right, and John's face was ecstatic and effortful and Rodney kissed him, licked his way into one kiss and out again, just as John made this incredibly erotic and just as effortful sound and came again. The scent and feel of it, the expression on John's face, and the trembling in John's muscles tipped him over and he followed, bright white pleasure twisting his nerves in an entirely good way and leaving him breathless.

When Rodney caught his breath again, he put his hand at the small of John's back again. "So, not just adrenaline."

"Not just adrenaline," John agreed.

"Months," Rodney said.

"Months," John agreed.

"How many months?"

John sighed. "Several."

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"No." John smiled crookedly. "You?"

Rodney couldn't very well say hours, now could he? And was that even true? He thought about it, decided he'd been noticing Sheppard for a while and hadn't let himself notice. "A while," he finally said, reckoning it for honesty.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?" But John's smile was delighted.

"No," Rodney agreed. "I'm not."

John laughed softly and licked his jaw. "Rodney?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for yanking me out of the line of fire this morning." There was some mischief in John's voice that he couldn't quite translate.

"You're welcome."

"And for giving me a landing pad," John added, making the reason for the mischief clear.

"Oh," he said, with perfect honesty, "The pleasure was at least 50 percent mine."


End file.
